


Unforgettable

by castielanie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-14
Updated: 2014-02-14
Packaged: 2018-01-12 07:30:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1183545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castielanie/pseuds/castielanie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>January. Cold weather, rainy afternoons, discounted Christmas decorations… Dean was never one for the winter months.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unforgettable

Whenever his birthday came, Dean would hope Sam wouldn’t remember; of course, he always did, but it never hurt to try. The brothers were always in disagreement over birthday parties, to say the least– Sam always thought of it as another year past their troubles, and Dean… well, another year closer to pushing up daisies in the nearest graveyard.

It was a bit better this year, though– it was really their first home in a while, this underground bunker. With reliable heating, working locks, and no mysterious stains on the bed sheets, Dean, at the very least, could sleep in his bed without waking up in a cold sweat.

It had been a strange three months without word from Crowley, or any strange supernatural beings with family problems. Cas had shown up bloody and beaten, his face covered in bruises and his trench coat irretrievable, with no memory of why or how he got to the bunker. The boys would have wandered for answers if Cas was not helpless in this state– somehow cut off from Heaven, this angel’s grace could not mend him. He had to heal on his own, which came with the need for food, sleep, and showering; gladly, though, he was not in need of educating. These, however, were things he was not easily accustomed to; every time he would unknowingly try to beam off to some foreign land, his condition would worsen, and he would begin to heal even slower than before. The Winchesters were forced to keep the stubborn angel under constant watch. Even on Dean’s birthday; which Cas regretted, very much.

And Dean… naturally, he wanted Cas to experience the birthday escapades, as well. It would give him something to think about.

Even so, he was thankfully reduced to only scratches and faint scars when the beginning of March rolled around. Dean picked a day, the 21st, by messily circling it on the calendar in the foyer with thick red ink, scribbling “CAS” in capital letters; he tried to convince himself it was only random, that he picked it off the top of his head, ignoring his thoughts of “Cas always liked the spring” and “the flowers would be fitting for him.” Like the cold, he believed, at least, that he was never one for sappy hallmarks.

“Hello Dean,” Cas muttered as the Winchester stalked through the bunker door. He hoped for his footsteps to go unnoticed in the dead of the night, but when the angel’s raspy voice echoed from the foyer, he realized he wouldn’t have fallen asleep without knowing Dean was safe in his room. Cas may as well have fallen, but he was not quite human, in need of eight hours a night. Sleeping was only a twice-a-week thing, most times.

“Cas– shouldn’t you be sleeping,” Dean rumbled out, a little startled, and tossing the keys to the impala into his jacket as he came down the balcony stairs. He flipped the switches to shed light into the bunker, eager to get some rest before the morning tomorrow; of course, vocalizing this was enough to subdue the angel, however much to his distaste, and he escaped to his quarters.

____________________________________________

The next morning, Dean rubbed his eyes, and checked his phone. The date read March 20th, and his heart started to beat heavily in his chest. Dammit, he thought; am I supposed to get Cas a present? What the hell could he want?

Dean considered asking Sammy for help, which he quickly threw away due to horrid embarrassment. He swung his legs over the end of his bed, shoving his pillow off the the side. It took him a minute to realize that the morning had not even come, and that he’d only slept for a mere couple of hours, if that. But, nevertheless, he grabbed the keys once again from his jacket pocket, and strolled out the door.

Hours passed. Dean parked at possibly the smallest gas stop in Lebanon, Kansas, as he must have visited a hundred stores, a thousand family shops with little trinkets and toys– but still, he had no clue what Cas would’ve wanted. Taking his frustration out on the gas nozzle, Dean leaned against the bumper of the Impala and crossed his arms. He racked his brain again for ideas, for any hint of something the angel would admire. His little internal conversations bubbled behind his closed eyes; something that was becoming a frequent occurrence.

…a bible?

What the hell, dude. C’mon…. What about a new trench coat? He might miss that dirty thing.

That’s really fucking cheesy. What are you thinking?

Dean was getting frantic over this. Why was he so fevered over getting Cas a present? Why was it such a big deal, about Cas’s opinion?

Because it matters to you, you dumbass.

Dean shook his head, turning to pull the nozzle from the Impala, but a weather-beaten sign across he road caught his eye. “Rusty’s Auto Salvage, huh…” Finally, with an idea collecting itself in his mind, Dean retreated back into the Impala and drove toward the junk yard.

“Maybe I could make him something… you know, like something from the heart.” Ugh, that’s even cheesier, he thought. But at least he won’t insult it if he doesn’t like it.

Dean waved to the owner as he pulled into the yards, and quickly hopped out, making sure whoever would come over would know Dean’s baby was not junk. He looked around, searching for inspiration, slightly saddened as the sight of broken cars and memories of Bobby.

It didn’t take long for Dean to nearly trip over a metal ring on the dirt; once he’d cursed, he bent down and gripped the cool steel, turning it in his hands… a small voice popped in his head, and he quickly returned to the Impala.

Dean drove to the only park he could find in this small town, and peered up at the morning sun. It really was beautiful out here– the flowers just beginning to bloom, the trees as green as jade and as tall as giants… he realized that this is really the first time, in a very long time, that he actually got to appreciate something. Something beautiful, and positive, and something without evil behind it… it was a nice feeling to experience, after so long.

When Sam called his brother, questioning where he had gone, Dean stopped through a diner for breakfast and returned home with food for the three of them. After the meal, though, Dean retreated to his bedroom, a pocketful of monochromatic bird feathers and a rusty metal hoop.

__________________________________________

Dean’s alarm began to sound as the morning of March 21st arrived; and his heart followed in its wake. He madly swiped all of the scraps of thread from his bed and into a trash bin, lifting his final creation from the duvet and placing it in a rudimentary box, leftover from a package. Only newspaper was available to him for wrapping, but when Dean had tightened the twine bow on its head, he was confident in the mediocre outside to lessen the disappointment in the inside.

Dean exited his chambers with the present in hand, searching for his brother. However, Dean could immediately hear the scratch of the needle on a Nat King Cole vinyl, starting the jazz that Dean had grown to love as they settled into the home of the Men of Letters.

“Unforgettable… that’s what you are…”

Cas was already resting upon the couch where he must have fallen asleep the night before, clutching a pillow to his chest as he tucked his knees underneath it. In that shirt, that was was too big for him, and draped over his shoulders, and those pants that nearly sunk over his bony hips… he looked more like a child than a righteous warrior of Heaven. Dean glanced at the sleeping angel, though, and a tiny grin laid itself upon his lips.

Sam gave Cas a small shake on his shoulder, jostling him awake. The music began to stir him even more, and the boys motioned him to sit upright, taking their places next to the angel.

“So… this is what happens on one’s birthday…” Cas mutters as he rubs the sleep out of his eyes. He looks from Sam to Dean, and though his eyes linger on Dean a little more than they should, he smiles as he takes Sam’s neatly wrapped box and reveals its contents. Quickly peering into the tiny model of Earth, rotating on its axis as thin digital clouds cover its surface, and cracking open his human behavior novels, he scans them for only a few seconds.

Sam hops off to the recesses of the bunker for a few minutes, but when Cas turns to Dean, a small smirk on his lips, he knows this was a bad, bad idea.

Cas picks the edges of the newspaper and balls it up, prying open the cardboard and peering inside. Millennia pass, or so it seems, and he lifts the halo of feathers up to his eyes. A grin spreads itself onto the angel’s lips, and he hunches over to place the halo upon his head.

“Unforgettable, in every way…”

“And forever more, that’s how you’ll stay…”

Dean’s eyes widen as the steel emits a soft glow, and hovers gracefully above Cas’s head. The halo cast black and white holograms of feathers around itself, setting a bright light above the angel like a radiant sun; without his grace, this angel could not hear his brothers, could not see his future, could not feel his will to fly… yet when Dean blinks, a span of black wings is sprouting through Cas’s shirt, and casting a shadow over their couch. His halo’s glow reflects like water from the underside of them, and he quickly tucks a wing around Dean.

Sam smiled as he returned to the foyer, glad his brother could finally find a gift for his love.

“I think I’ve got some research to do… I’ll leave you guys.”

____________________________________________

Like the flowers of spring blooming, and the sun dim glow of Castiel’s grace emitting through his crown… Every aspect of this moment was beautiful.

And, in every way, unforgettable.


End file.
